


What Richie Saw

by stephaniep



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fix-It, Flirting, IT Chapter Two Spoilers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-17 16:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20624303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephaniep/pseuds/stephaniep
Summary: Been crying about the clown movie for a week now so decided to try and fix it. Richie sees something in the deadlights which proves to be very useful.





	1. Chapter 1

‘_ ...Eddie…’ _

_ holding his face bringing his eyes to mine so cold no response but it’s fine just need to get him out he’s okay need to stop the bleeding _

_ ‘Richie’ _

_ ‘What!?’ _

_ ‘Honey...honey, he’s dead…’ _

_ eyes are staring open. so pale. hand screws into the back of his shirt and he’s crushed to my chest my fingers tangled in his grimy hair so tight it must be hurting him but fuck it I’m not letting go I’ll stay here ‘till he wakes up _

_ bigger, stronger hands and arms pulling and we’re broken and I’m fighting and kicking and Eddie gets smaller and smaller as dust and rubble falls and why is no one helping him? I’m pulled and there’s shouting and I can’t see him anymore. _

_ the house is falling on top of him we need to get back in there why don’t these fuckers understand he’s still in there and _

_ ‘Eddie! EDDIE!!’ _

_ there’s blood on my glasses. I lower them gently into the water and rub at the blood, watching as it swirls into the dirty water and disappears. I let the glasses fall from my fingers and sink sink. And I sink too. _

_ I’m scratching into the wood, going over the etching that’s still there, a little weather-beaten and faded, forgotten for many years but it’s still there. And I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now, now that Eddie’s - _

  


Richie slams into the dank ground, knocking the back of his head and all the wind out of him as a bonus. It’s suddenly dark and the smell of blood, smoke and, -oh jesus- sewage, overpowers him. He can’t tell if the blurred vision is because of the shock or if he’s somehow lost his glasses. Either way, there’s no way he’s still on the kissing bridge and there’s screaming and these flashing lights that won’t stop and he can barely see a thing until…

‘Rich! Rich! Hey Rich, wake up!’

Suddenly Richie can see but somehow this is more disorientating because filling his vision is Eddie. Eddie’s eyes are wide and searching in his, but his expression of enthusiasm and downright glee seems a bit incongruous for the situation. Also, not to be insensitive, but didn’t someone drop a _ house _ on you dude?

‘Hey! Yeah, there he is!’ Eddie cheers as Richie struggles to his elbows, still staring at the flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, full of life. ‘Buddy, hey Richie, listen, I think I got him man!’

Eddie glances over his shoulder and Richie follows his gaze. Pennywise (oh shit, it’s still alive, right) is howling, its gaping jaws wreathed in flame, a metal pole sticking jaggedly out of its throat. Richie feels a rush of adrenaline as his brain drops back into place and he remembers. Eddie looks back at him, heaving with pride in himself and practically bouncing. It would be adorable if this shit wasn’t so fucking terrifying.

‘I think I killed it! I did it!’ Eddie crows to the ceiling. ‘I…’

_ Oh shit! _

Richie grabs the front of Eddie’s shirt, fabric twisted between white knuckles and yanks as hard as he can. He can just see Eddie’s jubilant face turn to confusion and shock and hear a soft squeal before he’s down, and Richie has rolled on top to cover him.

He knows he’s managed it when he feels the barb enter his back and burst through his front. Pain explodes up his right side and he can feel the wetness gathering underneath him, probably soaking poor Eddie. He barely has time to breathe before he’s hoisted up, his limbs dangling uselessly in mid-air. A scream (probably Beverly, but maybe Eddie, Eddie can be a bit of a screamer) before he’s flicked away like a bug, coming to land with a crash then tumbling down a slope.

‘Oh my God!’

‘Rich! RICHIE!’

He hears yells and running footsteps and his side feels like it’s on fire but it’s okay, it didn’t get him right in the chest and it’s not Eddie this time so it’s all fine. Shaking hands turn him over and he involuntarily shouts in pain.

‘Careful!’

‘Holy shit Richie,’ Eddie again comes into his view, only now deathly pale, his lips trembling and taking heaving breaths like he’s having one of his famous asthma attacks. But he’s not reaching for his inhaler this time, his eyes are locked onto Richie and his hands are fluttering around his face, as if unsure whether to touch.

‘Are...are you alright?’

_ What kind of fucking question is that? _ Richie gives what he hopes will be recognised as a look of incredulousness but then rather more meaningfully underscores his point by coughing up quite a lot of blood.

‘Guys, Richie’s hurt!’ Eddie turns to everybody else, who are only really faint shadows at this point. ‘We need to get him out of here!’ His voice breaks.

_ I’d say so, _ Richie thinks, the pain in his side numbing to a dull ache ( _ is that good? _ ) and his eyelids becoming heavy. _ Oh hang on, wait. The fucking clown _.

Fortunately the rest of the losers seemed to have come to this conclusion as well. There’s talk of luring Pennywise away, getting it small enough to tackle. Richie’s not really following this at the moment but thinks he might have heard the conversation before, somewhere. He’s not the only one out of the loop, Eddie is fully with him, ripping off his sweater (_ I could make a joke here.... something like, ‘slow down, not on the first date’....can’t really get the wording right… I never could write my own material). _With one hand steadying himself on Richie’s shoulder, Eddie presses his hoodie down hard on his wounded side, gabbling all the way. 

‘We’ll probably need to get you to a trauma unit or something, I think the nearest one’s a mile out of Derry, I went there when I was ten to get a splinter out of my foot, you remember, I was on crutches for a month, you will definitely need stitches, probably surgery. And with all the piss and shit floating around here you’ll be at higher risk of infection, a course of antibiotics probably, maybe you’ll need physical rehab…’ and so on and so on. Richie appreciates the attempt at medical treatment but given how much he can feel Eddie shaking and yammering, he can’t help but think that this man is not great in a crisis.

‘Richie!’ A hard slap is administered to his face, making him gasp and his eyes snap open. ‘Stay the fuck awake douchebag!’

Eddie swims back into focus, it’s incredible how vivid his image is considering how everything else is faded. His boy is not looking good. Sweat mixed with dirt is pouring down his face and his eyes are wild, his arms drenched in blood and Richie can feel him shaking through the hand he has plastered to his face and neck. More upsettingly, there are tears in those eyes (_ you’re not the one who got skewered, Eddie, get it together _). Almost out of curiosity, Richie raises an unsteady hand up and wipes one away. Eddie and Richie’s eyes lock for a moment, then Richie remembers something else, something really, really important this time.

‘Hey….hey Eddie…’

‘What? What is it buddy?’ Eddie almost whispers, the tears properly falling now, cutting tracks down the filth, dampening the bandage on his face.

Richie grins. ‘I fucked _ your _ mom,’ he croaks. He immediately laughs at the change in Eddie’s expression, from frantic, overwrought eyes to a face of stone, the clenched annoyance that always looked so good on him.

‘What the actual fuck, Richie,’ Eddie demanded in a low voice. This was better. This was more Eddie. ‘You’re bleeding out all over me and you come out with _ that _? Fucking asshole.’

Richie chuckles again, then almost regrets it as a sharp pain stabs in his torso and he hisses. Eddie immediately stiffens and applies more pressure, not only to his side, but also to the hand cupping his face. Much as Richie wants Eddie to keep touching him (_ is it weird to be enjoying aspects of this? _), he has to ask.

‘Pe...Pennywise…?’

‘They’re dealing with it,’ Eddie says shortly, pressing his trembling lips together and refusing to meet Richie’s gaze. ‘I’ll stay here.’

‘Eds…’ Eddie flicks his eyes up to meet him, almost reluctantly. ‘Eds, you have to go and help.’

Eddie looks absolutely wretched at this. ‘But…’

‘All losers together, right? They can’t do it without you.’ Eddie shakes his lowered head vehemently, those tears starting to flow again and his grip on Richie becomes iron, nails digging into his shoulder.

‘Eddie, look at me. Look!’ And Eddie raises his eyes again, swimming and red. Richie gazes back, imploring and soft. ‘Go. Be brave.’

Eddie screws his eyes up tight, rocking back and forth on his heels for a moment before slowly opening up. Biting his bottom lip, his eyes run all over Richie’s face, devouring every part of it, then he reaches over a blood-stained hand to straighten his glasses. One final look then he’s gone, leaving Richie alone.


	2. Chapter 2

The wisps of smoke that used to be Pennywise are fading. The losers club stand together, panting, exhausted from the adrenaline and the sudden absence of the terror that’s been stalking them for so long. There’s a silence and a stillness then…

‘Richie,’ Eddie breathes and runs back, the others not far behind. Eddie skitters down the slope and comes to a halt in front of the body, dropping to his knees and lifting Richie’s face with both hands.

‘Richie..’ Eddie whispers, with what could almost be described as tenderness. He gives him a gentle shake. ‘Rich, we did it man…’

No response. Eddie can feel how limp Richie is in his arms, and can see how pale and gray he’s become, how did that happen? It’s only been a few minutes.

‘Richie…?’

There’s nothing but silence.

‘Eddie…,’ Beverly starts up, her voice cracking. ‘Eddie, honey, is he-’

‘I’m not fucking dead guys,’ Richie mumbles. 

Eddie jumps about a foot in the air, and he emits a sharp shriek at his friend’s sudden movement. He could swear he could see the corner of Richie’s mouth twitch, just for a moment, into a smirk. That _ bastard _ .

‘You ABSOLUTE CU-’

‘Guys, guys, we need to get out of here!’ Bill interrupts with a shout as the ground starts to tremble and the dust begins to fall. ‘This whole place is going to go down! Grab Richie and let’s go!’

Richie remembers this part, or at least some version of it. Again, there are strong arms (he’s guessing probably Mike and Ben, the beefcakes) pulling him up and dragging him as the sound of crumbling debris starts to crash around him. But despite the tearing pain in his side and the feel of tacky liquid creeping down his leg, Richie reckons he prefers this to the first time around. After all, he can hear a high pitched voice garbling on and on, punctuated by the occasional squeal as something else falls and several ‘don’t drop him! Don’t drop him!’s.

He’s not sure how they’ve managed it, but sunlight hits Richie’s face and he grimaces, trying pitifully to squirm away. There’s more dragging and for the first time, Richie gets really, really scared. What with the ear-splitting crack of the house folding and collapsing in on itself, he can no longer hear that voice. His heart seems to freeze in his chest.

‘Eddie...Eddie,’ he slurs ( _ it was louder last time, right? _ ). ‘Eddie…’

‘Rich, it’s alright, calm down…’

‘ _ Eddie _ ,’ he insists and as he’s gently laid to the floor he suddenly realises whose arms he’s being lowered into. He raises a quavering hand up and grasps Eddie’s shirt as tightly as he can, deciding he’s really not going to let go this time.

‘What? What is it dude? What now?’ Eddie jabbers, clearly panicking and out of his depth. Despite the relief flowing through his body and the darkness starting to encroach at the corners of his mind, Richie can’t seem to stop saying it.

‘Eddie….Eddie…’

Seems like no matter how they play this out, Richie will always leave the Niebolt House calling Eddie’s name.


	3. Chapter 3

Richie wakes slowly, groggily and very reluctantly. He’s deep and warm in crisp sheets and there’s the stinging scent of antiseptic in the air ( _ Eddie’s probably been chucking bleach around again).  _ He starts to wriggle, trying to get a sense of where all of his body is and then automatically winces, remembering he’s meant to be in pain. But all that there is are stiff bandages wrapped tightly around him, and a pleasing numbness underneath. His fingers trail the length of his side, it feels puckered and bows slightly inwards, but it seems like it’s all there. Since that’s gone well, Richie tries opening his eyes next.

White walls, white ceiling and a weird beeping machine set up next to him ( _ Eddie would know what that’s called _ ). Everything’s blurred and it takes Richie a second to realise his glasses have been placed delicately on the table beside him. By grunting and struggling up to his elbows he’s able to reach them and as he puts them on he notices they’ve been cleaned. The empty hospital room swarms into focus.

Richie quickly figures out what must have woken him up. From just outside the ajar door he can hear murmuring and muttered voices. And he has a feeling which voice his subconscious most likely responded to.

‘But why does he keep saying my name?’ Eddie was imploring, in a small broken voice. ‘Even now he’s unconscious he keeps saying it!’

‘Well, that and “ow”,’ a female voice points out.  _ Beverly _ . ‘There’s been quite a few “ow”s thrown in there. And, not sure if you’ve noticed, but a heck of a lot of swearing.’

‘Yes, but-’ Eddie gets more insistent, ‘what I mean is, has something gone wrong?’

‘Sweetie, what are you talking about? The doctors said he’s going to be fine. He’ll probably wake up soon, which means we can all go in there and throw things at him for scaring us.’

‘ _ No _ ,’ Eddie almost whispers, his voice almost cracking. ‘Not physically. I mean, has something gone wrong….mentally.’

There’s a silence. Richie gets a sinking feeling, deep in his gut. What the fuck has he been saying?

‘Look,’ Eddie takes a shuddering breath before continuing. ‘He was looking into the deadlights, right? Prime method for fucking your brain up and turning it into soup. What if - what if I was too late? What if it…  _ did _ something to him?  _ Why does he keep saying my name? _ ’

Richie can almost see Beverly placing both hands on Eddie’s quaking shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eye and breathe his way out of his panic, the way she was so good at doing when they were kids.

‘Eddie, listen,’ she says firmly. ‘Take it from a deadlights survivor. I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with Richie. I will promise you now that he’s okay. In fact….I have a feeling I know what he saw in those lights. And it would explain a whole lot.’

‘Well, if it’s not the deadlights then it’s probably a brain parasite,’ Eddie says dejectedly. ‘Anything could’ve been in those sewers.’

‘Now you’re just being stupid,’ Beverly scolds.

Okay, that’s enough. Not for the first time in his life, Richie decides he’d like some attention.

‘ _ AHEM _ !’ Richie hollers, being rather pleased with the volume and resonance he’s able to achieve, despite his less than ideal condition. He’s rewarded with a shriek, what sounds like someone throwing a drink against a wall in shock and a - ‘Jesus Christ!’ He grins.

‘Bev...Bev, I don’t know if I can.’

‘I’ll go,’ she reassures him. ‘Let me have a talk with him first. Check him for brain parasites.’

The door creaks open and Beverly pokes her head round to see Richie, sitting up in bed and still grinning. Richie is surprised ( _ well, not that surprised I guess _ ) at how happy he is to see her, warmth and a surge of love rises up and flows through him. His smile widens. She’s really okay.

‘Oh Richie,’ she cries as she closes the door and crosses over to his bedside, giving his arm a gentle squeeze as she sits down. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like a kebab,’ Richie says. From here he can notice that, although she’s clearly changed and showered since the sewers, there’s still a patch of red stickiness clinging to her temple. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks, suddenly worried, nodding towards her forehead, struggling up to see better.

‘Yes yes Richie, relax,’ Beverly says, firmly pushing him back onto his pillows. ‘I don’t know whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing that this isn’t my blood, but I’m fine.’

‘Is...is everyone…?’

‘Yes, everyone’s alright,’ Beverly eases him. ‘We all got out okay. Eddie included.’ She looks at him meaningfully. Richie pretends not to understand. ‘Although,’ she sighs after a moment’s silence, ‘I can’t say he’s handling the situation all that well.’

‘Yeah, I heard,’ Richie says, glancing towards the door. ‘ _ Brain parasite _ ?’

‘He’s just worried about you Rich. We all were. Bill was already starting to write your eulogy.’

Richie chuckles but then falls silent. He can feel the tension in the room, the unspoken question, but there’s no damn way he’s going to be the first one to talk about it. Fortunately, as ever, Beverly takes the lead.

‘Look Rich,’ she says, giving his arm a little shake so he’ll look at her. ‘I’m just gonna come out and say it.’

Richie thought that with It dead, these sort of feelings would be a thing of the past, but nevertheless a lead weight drops in his stomach and embarrassingly, his breathing starts to quicken.

‘There’s no way you’d have been quick enough to pull Eddie out of Pennywise’s path by yourself,’ Beverly says firmly, ignoring the look of rising panic in his eyes. ‘Tell me, what exactly did you see in the deadlights?’

_ Please don’t make me remember _ .

Beverly takes pity and her eyes soften. ‘It was Eddie, right? Impaled through the chest? Being flung around the cavern?’

It was like she had hit him. Images come flooding into his mind as the wall he’d tried to put up collapses. The claw poking through his heart, the limp way he flew around the cave, seemingly for hours, the crash as he fell, the blood pumping relentlessly, how cold and blank he was, how he couldn’t seem him through the debris, the-

‘Richie? Honey?’ Beverly brings him part of the way back to reality. Her hands are clasping his tight.

‘How did you know?’ Richie chokes out, feeling as if he’d like an inhaler for once.

‘Because I saw it too,’ Beverly tells him softly. ‘Along with all the other dozens of ways I saw you guys die. It’s what the lights do, Rich.’ She gives him a small smile. ‘Sucks right?’

_ That’s a fucking understatement. _

‘He..’ Richie squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and then tries again. ‘He was dead, Bev. He died.’ And horribly, he can feel his eyes stinging and welling up, just like they had in the quarry. Tears leak over and he frantically scrubs at them with the back of his hand.

‘I know, Rich.’

And suddenly Richie wants to tell her everything, spill the whole fucking horrible mess out of him as a flood. Tell her how his lungs seemed to shrivel, how there was some cold, metallic-tasting object forcing its way up his throat, how he couldn’t feel his bottom half, how his whole brain was screaming, how it felt to have bits of his gut, his spleen, his heart ripped and torn out of him with rusty hooks as he was dragged away. But all he can manage is...

‘I couldn’t breathe, Bev.’ It rips out of him as a sob. He feels soft hands reach for his face, stroke his hair. ‘I’d forgotten how to breathe,’ he whispers.

Beverly is crying too. ‘Richie, honey, it wasn’t real,’ she says, wiping away the cascading tears with a thumb. ‘It didn’t happen. You stopped it.’

Richie starts to shake his head as he gasps and shudders and weeps, but Beverly’s hands catch him firmly and force him to look up.

‘Eddie is  _ alive _ , Richie,’ she says forcefully, staring into his watery eyes, a single tear running down her face. ‘It wasn’t real. It all seemed to happen in flashes, right? Like a dream?’ Richie stills at this and starts to listen. ‘It’s not like now. You can feel this, right? This is real.’

And Richie grasps her wrist as she wipes his eyes, feeling the pump of her blood, the warmth. And he believes.

They stay that way for a while, just holding each other, until Richie remembers that Eddie is probably still waiting outside, wondering what’s taking so long.  _ Shit, I hope he didn’t hear any of that _ . He takes a decisive sniff, rubs his face one last time and sits up, gently pushing Beverly away.

‘Thanks for that, Bev,’ he says quietly as he feels himself return.

‘Any time, Trashmouth,’ Beverly smiles. She strokes the back of his hand, seemingly weighing up what she wants to say next. ‘We dragged you out of there kicking and screaming, didn’t we?’’ she says slowly, not meeting his gaze. ‘In the vision, I mean. You wouldn’t leave him.’

Richie gives a curt nod, staring pointedly at the wall, willing himself not to start crying like a bitch again. Beverly looks up, a sad smile playing on her face.

‘You must really love him.’

_ Shit. _

Richie’s eyes widen as if he’d been punched in the gut. His breath catches in his chest and his heart seems to be beating its way up his throat. Beverly immediately springs forward, alarmed, rubbing his upper arm frantically to try and placate him.

‘Now don’t start all that again!’ she pleads. ‘I’m sorry, Rich, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘It’s okay...it’s…’

‘No, honestly Richie.’ Beverly places a hand on his shoulder, forcing him still. ‘Listen. That’s  _ yours _ . It’s yours to do what you want with. Nobody else’s.’ Richie looks back at her, his breathing slowing, then nods.

‘Alright,’ Beverly stands up, suddenly business-like, like the last couple of minutes had never happened. ‘I’d probably better send Eddie in here, he must be going crazy out there. Well,’ she says after a thought. ‘Crazier, anyway.’

Richie has a last ditch attempt to scrub his face and eyes with his hands, smooth down his hair and hitch a sarcastic smile back onto his face. ‘How do I look?’ he asks.

Beverly looks him up and down, takes in his slightly gray pallor, his dirty hair, his cracked glasses and his red-raw eyes. ‘Sexy as all hell, Richie.’

‘Good,’ Richie says. ‘Same as usual then.’

Beverly laughs as she turns to leaves and then pauses for a moment. Looking back at him she smiles. ‘For what it’s worth, Rich, I think you might have a shot there.’ And then she walks out before he can respond.


	4. Chapter 4

Eddie has not showered. That’s Richie’s first thought. Grime coats him from head to toe, dirt streaks down his arms, there’s still damp sewage dripping from his boots and his clothes are stiff with dried, brown gunk _ (crap, that’s my blood isn’t it? He’s gotta be so pissed) _. Richie is amazed, first that they let him stay in the hospital in this condition and secondly that Eddie didn’t immediately douse himself in bleach as soon as he got out of that sewer. 

But Eddie’s not panicking about the dirt, nor did he come screaming into the room about how Richie could have contaminated him by bleeding all over the place. He’s just standing there, at the door, looking at Richie with what seems like wariness. _ Brain parasites. _Richie has a strong impulse to start speaking in tongues just to freak him out.

Eddie looks him over for a second, then squints. ‘Rich, have you...have you been _ crying _?’

Richie tries his hardest to keep a straight face. ‘Yeah Eds. The stink you’ve dragged in here is stinging my eyes.’

Eddie _ explodes _.

‘I am not in the FUCKING mood, Richie!’ Eddie yells, his face turning an unexpected shade of red and honestly, he does a little hop of rage. It’s all Richie can do to not laugh. 

‘Eddie…’

‘NO!’ Eddie shouts dramatically, pointing a quivering finger at Richie’s face to shut him up before starting to storm back and forth across the room, flailing his arms wildly. ‘I’ve been scared shitless for several days straight, a leper threw up on me, some mullet-wearing _ asshole _ stabbed me in the face….,’ Eddie ramps up to a scream now, ‘....I trampled through _ raw sewage _ and then I threw a fucking _ javelin _ into a spider-clown! Did...did you see that…?’ he finishes rather lamely, looking plaintively at Richie while half-heartedly miming it in mid-air. ‘Did you see the javelin thing?’

A hiccup of laughter escapes Richie. ‘Sorry dude,’ he says, swallowing hard. ‘Must’ve missed that bit.’ He’s beaming. Who’d have thought Eddie Kaspbrak having a full-blown nervous breakdown would be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen?

‘Typical,’ Eddie mutters, before moving over and collapsing into the chair next to the bed. The fight seems to go out of him, just for a second, as he buries his face in his hands, before it suddenly snaps back up with malice.

‘And, by the way,’ Eddie growls, ‘that’s not forgetting the amount you bled all over me. There’s a reason why doctors and surgeons wear gloves when handling that sort of thing you know.’

_ So he is mad about that. Called it! _

Richie can’t stop looking at him, taking in those doleful eyes, the huff of his shoulders going up and down, the slight pout of his lips. _ He’s alive_. Eddie catches him gazing.

‘What is it Richie?’ he sighs, sitting back, mentally preparing for another jibe. 

‘It’s just so, so good to see you Eds.’ 

He’s never been more sincere about anything in his life.

Eddie stares for a moment before flopping his head, face down, onto the bed. ‘I am so tired,’ he mumbles into the sheets. ‘I wanna sleep for, like, twenty years.’ 

‘Well, you’re welcome to share the bed, but it might be nice if you showered first.’

‘Fuck off,’ a small muffled voice replies. Richie lets out a small laugh, gives it a second, then carefully, experimentally, places a hand in Eddie’s hair and starts to stroke it gently. Eddie wriggles slightly, but doesn’t pull away.

‘Rich?’

‘Yeah bud?’

‘Please don’t call me Eds.’

Richie just keeps petting him, quietly, scratching through the clumpy hair to his scalp, taking in the sounds of his breathing, the outline of his slumped profile. And a thought comes to him, an intrusive thought that’s come up time and time again, and was not always welcome. Especially not when they were kids. But, after everything that’s happened….Richie just lets it in.

_ I am so in love with you _.

And for the first time ever, it gives him strength.

He notices that Eddie is sniffing slightly, and his shoulders are shaking. He has a terrible feeling that Eddie is - or at least is about to start- crying.

‘Hey!’ Richie says sharply, giving Eddie a little prod between his shoulder blades. He doesn’t think he can handle any more tears, there’s been enough to fill up the whole damn quarry twice over today. ‘Will you cheer the fuck up? We did it right? We killed it!’

Eddie raises his head mournfully. Thankfully he’s not actually crying, but there’s a distinct look of misery etched on that face.

‘I didn’t know what to do, Richie,’ he whispers with tortured eyes, and Richie suddenly doesn’t feel like continuing the tough love approach. ‘I mean, you were floating there and I felt for sure like I was gonna freeze again but then I saved you -which I can’t believe you missed by the way, it was badass- and I thought it was over. Then the next second you’re impaled, right above me! Do you have any idea what that was like?’

_ Not now. I’ll tell him some day, but not today. _

‘Can’t imagine, Eds,’ Richie says softly. Eddie leans forward and buries his face in his hands again. He looks exhausted.

‘I can’t believe you did that to me,’ Eddie murmurs, rubbing his temples in firm, circular motions, his eyes squeezed shut. ‘I’ve never been so scared in my fucking life.’ 

Richie doesn’t dare move. It feels as though his heart has stopped beating. Eddie looks up, straight at Richie and his face crumples.

‘I don’t know _ what _ I would have done if you’d…’ Eddie trails off, then bites his lip. ‘It was like I couldn’t _ breathe, _ Rich.’

_ Oh. _

Richie decides pretty damn quickly to get back to a place of safety. There will be time for this, all of -whatever this turns out to be-, later.

‘Not being able to breathe is your natural state, to be fair Eds,’ Richie points out. Eddie huffs and rolls his eyes, back to his usual exasperated self. ‘Look, what I mean is - thanks for getting me out of there.’

Eddie shrugs, passing a hand roughly over his eyes. ‘That wasn’t me, that was Mike and Ben. I don’t have the upper body strength to lug your ass about.’

‘I’d’ve thought you’d have had some practise in heavy lifting when you were giving your mom all her sponge baths.’

Eddie’s face twists into a scowl and he gives a sharp kick to the bed, causing a jolt of pain to travel up Richie’s right side.

‘Ow,’ Richie says, pointedly.

‘Sorry,’ Eddie mutters. ‘Actually, no, not sorry, shut the fuck up.’ He closes his eyes for a second and ruffles some of the dried dirt out of his hair. ‘Oh Richie,’ he sighs, opening his eyes to look at him. ‘What are we gonna do?’

_ Kiss? _

‘I tell you the first thing you should do,’ Richie recovers quickly, swallowing hard. ‘You should get that seen to.’ He nods towards the stab wound on Eddie’s cheek. ‘All that crap all over you, it’s bound to get infected.’

‘Yeah, I know dipshit,’ Eddie snaps. ‘Remember who you’re talking to.’ He rests his head on his hand, sulking. ‘I’ll deal with it in a bit,’ he mumbles.

‘You gonna shower too?’

‘Hey man, you have any idea what you look like?’

‘Sexy as all hell, apparently.’

Eddie raises an eyebrow. ‘You sure you don’t have a brain parasite?’

Richie chuckles and then, contemplating the tired, broken, filthy man sitting at his bedside, makes a decision. He stretches out his arm and beckons to Eddie.

‘C’mere dude.’

Eddie scoots closer and, after a second’s consideration, allows Richie to hold him, relaxing his head into his hand so that Richie can smooth his thumb soothingly along his cheekbone. He sighs deeply before grasping Richie’s arm close to him in return. After a few minutes of quietness, Richie seizes his opportunity and jabs his thumb hard into Eddie’s bandaged wound, causing a satisfying howl of pain and indignation.

‘Fucking hell!’ Eddie yelps as Richie laughs so hard that tears roll down his face. ‘Asshole!’

But he doesn’t let go.


	5. Chapter 5

The door shuts in Eddie’s face, with what is almost, though not quite, a slam. Eddie feels that kind of sums it up, really. He allows himself a moment to get his nerves in check, the adrenaline still rattling through him as the enormity of the decision he’s made settles. He practices his inhaler-free breathing techniques (still a relatively novel concept for him) as the still-warm autumnal air dances around him, cars roll by and children play in the street. He’s pretty certain he can hear angry sobs coming from inside the house. Eddie tries to feel guilty.

Eddie’s not quite sure how the fuck you’re  _ meant _ to react in this situation. A separation is supposed to result in feelings of hopelessness, depression and stress in all the medical articles he’s read. So how come all Eddie feels is relief? And….happiness? Deep down, he reckons he knows the reason for that.

Eddie takes a final deep breath before picking up his sole suitcase. Despite a few hiccups, that didn’t go  _ too _ badly, he tells himself. After all, we were both relatively calm about it, and at least I can leave with some dig-

‘EDUARDOOO!’

A cacophony smashes through the air. Eddie wheels around, furious. Across the street, Richie is hanging half out of the car window, a stupid grin on his face, leaning what must be his entire weight on the horn with one hand. Passers-by have actually  _ stopped, _ staring open mouthed at the scene. The faces of his neighbors (well, ex-neighbors) start to appear at windows up and down the avenue.  _ Asshole ! _

Richie can’t stop laughing at Eddie’s outraged face. He continues to pump the horn, and then laughs even harder as Eddie starts to fucking  _ tip-toe _ across the street, hunched over and shooting furtive glances from side to side, as if ridiculously still trying to keep it stealthy.

‘ _ Richie!’  _ Eddie hisses in anger when he gets near enough. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

‘Picking you up from your wife’s house, like you asked,’ Richie says, affecting innocence as Eddie yanks open the passenger door and throws his suitcase moodily into the back seat. ‘What the hell, is that all you’re bringing? Knowing you, I thought we’d have to lash the kitchen sink to the roof!’

‘Most of my clothes have gone out the second floor window,’ Eddie mutters as he gets himself settled in the passenger seat, fumbling for the belt.

‘I’ll get you some more.’

‘And the ring went down the garbage disposal.’

‘I’ll get you another one of those too.’

Out of the corner of his eye, Richie notices a half-smile tugging at the corners of Eddie’s mouth, moving upwards to reach his eyes. From rather an intensive study on the subject over the past few weeks, Richie believes he’s been smiling more and more lately. 

_ I am so in love with you _ .

That refrain Richie used to try to block out has now become the background hum of his life. On balance, Richie concludes that this is a good thing. Someday soon, he imagines he’ll probably say it out loud and everything.

‘Ben bought Beverly a yacht, you know,’ Eddie points out as Richie checks his mirrors and starts the engine. ‘A big one too.’

‘Hey man, how much do risk analysts make anyway? You should be buying  _ me _ boats.’ 

The car pulls away from the kerb. The ex-Mrs Kaspbrak and her house dwindle away to nothing in the rear-view mirror. Eddie forgets to watch it disappear behind him. He has more important things to think about.

‘So…’ he says, breaking the comfortable silence. ‘What’s the plan, Richie?’

‘Well Eds..,’ Richie answers, noting with pleasure the twist of annoyance on Eddie’s face at the appearance of his nickname, it’s almost as good as making him smile. ‘I thought we’d drive to Miami, pick up some ice-cream, get married and then we can jerk each other off in our apartment.’

Eddie jumps and squeals in his seat - exactly what the now-smirking Richie was hoping for. ‘What the fu-what’s the matter with you? You are  _ disgusting _ , you know that?’

Richie shrugs as he turns onto the highway. ‘Not what you said last night.’ And he leaves Eddie spluttering and stammering while he turns the radio on. Richie thinks it’s rather ironic that, despite the significant hole still healing in his side, he’s never felt more complete.

_ I am so in love with you. _

Eddie glares sullenly out of the window, watching the city flash by and start to thin out. Suddenly he frowns.

‘Our apartment?’ he asks tentatively, somewhat wonderingly. He turns to Richie who glances back, eyebrows raised. Eddie’s eyes are wide, dark, almost confused, and he’s actually  _ biting _ his bottom lip.

_ Cute, cute, cute. _

Eddie takes a moment, staring out the front window, looking as if he’s trying to work out a particularly difficult math problem in his head. And then - 

‘We can get married?’

Something inside Richie melts as warmth spreads through every bit of him, while his very heart feels like it's glowing. _So in love, so in love, so in love with you..._ His face splits into the widest grin as he drapes an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him closer. 

‘Sure thing, baby doll.’

It’s gone way past half smiles now, full-on beaming settles on Eddie’s face as he snuggles closer, resting his head on Richie’s shoulder. This moment of pure bliss lasts for approximately three seconds before Eddie comes back to his senses.

‘What the fuck are you  _ doing _ _?_ Both hands on the wheel,  _ both hands on the wheel! _ ’ he shrieks, springing away in horror as Richie cracks up. ‘We’re going like seventy miles an hour, we’re gonna  _ die _ _,_ will you get both hands back on the wheel  _ now!  _ Oh Jesus, Jesus Christ, this is how it ends, oh god….’

The sound of Richie’s roaring laughter mixed with Eddie’s gibbering rises into the air as the car zooms away towards the east coast. A new life waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was purely therapy for me. It's also, genuinely, the first fanfic I've written for about 15 years, so huge thanks to everyone who read, liked and commented on it, it means a lot. Go forth and write more fix-its, people! It's all canon if we say it is!


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